


2054

by pinkwinwin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Angst, Character Death, Happy Ending, Humanity, M/M, Science Fiction, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 07:24:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21193850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkwinwin/pseuds/pinkwinwin
Summary: He was designed this way, after all.





	2054

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violetpeche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetpeche/gifts).

> I've been excited to share this one! I've had a lot of new stylistic choices to tackle with this fic and it definitely has it's darker elements, but overall I'm proud of this piece and I hope you enjoy it as well!
> 
> This is a birthday fic for the lovely Any— I hope this fulfills all your angsty kunten and android wants. You deserve a dozen fics about your favorite tropes, but hopefully this one is good ♡
> 
> The playlist for this fic is [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0gCY9eNf3e7FjX3z1iCCpJ?si=ac53Zc76SdCSiUK5yzXSdw). It might seem a little all over the place at first, but I swear it works with the story!  
#

The year is 2054.

The world is (mostly) beautiful.

Kun stands by the windows with a cup of coffee in his hand, swirling it idly as he stares out at the city beyond him. Most people still shuffle by on foot but there are several cars on the road and personal aircraft flying by his window. The Flyers, as they’re referred to around this neighborhood, spit more dark smoke and smog into the air than even the worn-down Toyotas and Hondas on the road below them. 

  
  
Kun has long since gotten used to the darkness. Ten never needed to in the first place. 

He pulls down the shades with a press of a button, the mechanical whirl slowly bringing the outside world out of view. Kun pushes away from the window, takes a sip of his drink, and leaves the mug on the dining room table. His hands smooth down the front of his shirt, his brow creased in what Ten’s databases registers as worry.

“Your proposal is in two weeks,” Ten reminds him, his arm resting on the armrest of his designated charging station. He leans against it casually, like it was any other furniture in the room, as he looks at Kun with interest. His files tell him his natural state is one of casual movement, carrying himself with what humans would refer to as confidence in some instances, and smugness in others. 

He was designed this way, after all.

Kun looks at him with a flash of surprise for a moment, but it shifts to worry once again. “Yes, thank you for the reminder.” He looks back to the closed laptop on the table, a slim gray device laying on a glossy surface. Ten registers his expression as one of frustration. “I think I need to wake up more, first.”

  
  
“Your vitals are registering as someone who is very much awake,” Ten replies, quick and smooth. His mouth curls up into a smile when Kun glares at him. 

“It seems I still haven’t gotten used to that.”

  
  
It’s true, Ten has data back almost the entire year and a half they’ve been together. Kun has a history of being taken off guard by what are Ten’s normally-programmed duties. Reminders for work, scanning his vitals, encouraging him to eat, offering companionship. All of these are standard for androids in society, yet the process appears to confuse Kun.

Ten re-analyzes this data as Kun gathers his coat and briefcase for work, uttering a quiet  _ see you later _ before the door clicks closed.   
  


˖ ˖ ˖

Fingers tap idly away at keys, stopping every so often to glide over the trackpad on the laptop. In the harsh light from the screen, Kun glows blue. His eyes are narrowed slightly as he reads, and Ten can make out from across the table that he’s experiencing retinal strain. 

  
  
“Kun, your scheduled break is here.” Ten speaks with a gentle tone, tilting his head to the side just slightly until he catches Kun’s gaze. 

Kun’s eyes flicker upwards, obscured slightly by the frame of his glasses. His hand is resting against his chin and he’s wearing a look of concentration even as he looks at Ten. “I still have work to do. I need this promotion”

“Your proposal is approximately seventy-three percent done,” Ten replies quickly, already scanning the computer in front of him. Kun scowls at this, sighing and pushing his frames up to rub his eyes. 

“I’d wish you’d stop doing that.”

“I’m encouraging you,” Ten says, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “Humans respond well to encouragement, according to my data.”

Kun nods, his mouth in a firm line. He takes a moment to roll his neck, which gives Ten the opportunity to scan his vitals. His heart rate is registering as normal, his blood pressure is standard—

A muted  _ beep _ echoes in Ten’s mind, alerting him to the fact that the ligaments in Kun’s neck are irritated. His body moves automatically, standing up and heading to the kitchen for water and aspirin. There are exactly two million sensors throughout this model, beneath his biomedically engineered skin, and they feel the small pill shake out into his hand and the coolness of the glass as he fills it with water.

It’s strange, how close he feels to human. How he was designed to be utterly lifelike, a carbon lifeform rather than one made of wires and inner processors. To the untrained eye, he would be mistaken for another human— perhaps a friend, or a lover.

Ten returns to Kun and offers him the pill, which he swallows down with a sip of water. Ten watches his Adam’s Apple bob up and down as he does. A symbol of how terribly human he is.

In his chest cavity, his internal fan whirls. 

˖ ˖ ˖

Mark calls at exactly seven forty-seven in the morning.

Ten’s inner clock tells him so, jolting him from where he sits in the living room. His gaze shifts from the window overlooking the city to the cell phone on the coffee table. Twenty percent of Ten’s audio analysis is fixated on the sound of Kun moving from room to room, the rest of it taking in the tinny sound of the ringing phone and the dripping sink in the back bathroom. 

  
  
_ Ring, drip. Ring, ring, drip. _

Ten hears Kun’s heartbeat before he sees him. And what a sight it is, Kun with a towel loose around his waist and his hair hanging damp in his eyes. His naked chest is speckled with water droplets as he leans down to snatch up the phone and press it to his ear on the last ring.

“Hello?” Kun asks, a little breathless. The sink in the bathroom now takes up twenty percent of his audio analysis. The rest is focused on the water dripping on the hardwood floor beneath Kun, his hastened breath from rushing across the apartment, his slightly frazzled voice as he’s taken off guard.

Kun is flustered. Ten files this information away into his database  _ [Q. KUN— EMOTIONS: NEUTRAL — FILE 2456.3] _

_ Drip, drip. _

“Yeah, that would be great. So you’ll be there by nine?” 

Nine in the morning, they’ll just miss the commuter traffic. A few hundred less bodies on the railway system, Ten knows Kun will be grateful for that. His inner sensors kick on and instantly the room is bathed in a pale blue grid. Kun doesn’t pay it any mind, instead he heads towards the bedroom while Ten scans for the necessary items.

Wallet in the coat pocket hanging over the dining chair, keys in a bowl next to the door. Small acts of services intended to make Kun’s life easier. 

  
  
That’s what Ten was designed for, after all.

Kun returns ten minutes later, freshly dressed and wearing an expression that Ten has never seen before. He immediately scans his system database of human emotions, almost matches it to worry or anxiety but neither seem to fit him properly. Instead he switches to a small smile, pulls on his coat and steps into his shoes.

The only change is that Kun reaches up to fix Ten’s hair before they leave the apartment. 

Mark’s office is in a quiet part of downtown, tucked away off a main street. The shades are drawn but Ten and Kun both know he’s inside, and they both slip inside the front door when they’re certain nobody is watching. Ten takes a moment to scan the room while Kun hangs up his coat. The mechanical blinds are soundproof, ensuring the building remains inconspicuous from the outside. The small waiting room area is plain enough, just an empty front desk and a few chairs for waiting parties. They don’t get time to sit, however, because a man with wide eyes and dark hair peeks his head out from a back door.

“Hey, guys, come on in,” Mark says, his voice quiet. His sleeves are rolled up and wrinkled and Ten makes note of the bags under his eyes. A quick scan of his vitals tells him that he’s barely slept. 

Kun ushers them both into the back room, and Ten is met by the familiar sight of a charging station, all chrome and red. The wall above Mark’s desk is lined with computer monitors, each screen showing different information. 

  
  
“I’m glad you could see us today,” Kun says, folding his arms in front of his chest and looking at Mark with worry. “I can only imagine how busy you are right now.”

  
  
Mark shakes his head, and Ten registers strain in his shoulders. “I’m just trying to figure out where to go from here, seems like it’s hitting smaller contractors across the county.”

  
  
Ten knows what this is, it’s an infestation. A virus, of some sort. Androids in the modern age are more human than ever— they breathe, cry, laugh, move just like every other person. It is in effort to bridge the gap between Artificial Intelligence and humanity, to bring comfort to those in need. Ten’s downloaded knowledge that a virus overstimulating these human-like emotions and breaking androids down from the inside out is  _ irony.  _

It feels more like cruelty. 

“What do they call it?” Ten asks, the first time he’s spoken since they’ve arrived. Both Kun and Mark look at him, their gazes seeming to pierce into Ten's skin.

"Virus forty-two," Mark replies, a smile on his face that even Ten knows has no humor behind it. "That's how many elements it impacts on average."

"It's why I'm in for maintenance more often," Ten says matter-of-factly. He looks at Kun with his next words. "You're trying to make sure I don't get it."

"Yes," Kun replies, exhaling deeply. "There's no way to fix it once it starts."

Ten arches a brow but stays quiet. It's Mark that speaks next, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "The only solutions are a complete wipe of the system or…" he trails off, looking at Ten directly. "I know a few androids who decide to exist with the virus until it breaks them down. It’s only about two years before it destroys you completely."

Ten studies Mark's face, analyzes worry and sadness. He doesn't even have to look at Kun to know he feels the same— his heartbeat is registering at an elevated level. 

"A small chance to feel truly human," Ten offers. "That's what this virus does."

When Ten turns his head he sees that Kun looks stunned at this. A strain of hair has fallen onto his forehead, but he makes no effort to move it. "That's quite a way of looking at it."

Ten smiles. "What is more reflective of humanity than to feel uncontrolled emotion?" He gets up and drags his hand over the charging station on the far end of the room before looking back at the two men. "I can't imagine that's really a punishment."

He doesn't miss the way Kun's face falls at this.

˖ ˖ ˖

Ten's database tells him that Kun is what most humans would refer to as a homebody. His daily routine consists of going to work, interacting with Ten, and staying home to type away on his laptop while the great wide world goes by outside his window. Ten doesn't understand it, doesn't see the reason why Kun wouldn't want the chance to go out and interact with other humans. 

But then again, Kun doesn't act like most humans.

" _ Fuck," _ Kun growls, snapping the lid of his laptop closed with more force than necessary and bathing the dining room on darkness. Ten's retina focus automatically kicks in and he can see Kun rub his face with both hands, breathing heavy into his palms.

"Work giving you trouble?" Ten asks, data not giving him enough to work with to settle on a tone. He defaults to his automatic voice, slightly animated with the end of his syllables trailing off. Kun sighs at this, taking his hands off his face.

"Life is giving me trouble, it seems," he replies, voice soft in the dark. Ten moves from his place at the far table to stand next to Kun, reaching out to grip his arm slightly.

"Come," he says, deciding on a more soothing tone. Kun doesn't resist, letting himself be pulled into the living room which is bathed in the warm glow of the tableside lamp. The blinds are pulled up, revealing the twinkling lights of the city. Kun automatically sinks into the couch, muscles seeming to relax into the fabric. Ten does a vital scan, and finds nothing out of the ordinary save for a creased brow.

"What is it?" Ten asks, standing next to the couch. Kun tilts his head, gives him the smallest twitch of a smile, reaches for his hand.

"Come," he echoes, pulling Ten to sit next to him. Ten agrees, sitting on the soft blue velvet of the couch. Instantly, Kun leans his head against Ten's shoulder. What he says next is something Ten isn’t prepared for, no data can help him with.

"Please forgive me for this moment of weakness," Kun says quietly. 

Ten breathes, puts his arm around Kun’s shoulder. “There is nothing weak in frustration, it is a human experience.” He listens to the sound of Kun breathing while he rubs his shoulder gently. By the time Kun speaks again, Ten has to adjust his audio processor to pick up his quiet speech.

“I need this promotion,” he whispers. “I want to get us out of here.”

  
  
“Why?” Ten asks softly. Kun sighs at this, makes a pointed attempt to not make eye contact as he explains.

“I want to move us somewhere else, someplace quieter. Out of the city,” Kun explains, tucking further against Ten’s body. “I think we deserve a better life than this.”

  
  
He has such a fondness in his voice that Ten feels the urge to register it in his database.  _ [Q. KUN— EMOTIONS: Positive — FILE 3768.7]  _ is created in the second it takes for Kun to take a breath, but what Ten will never tell him is that he stores it in a portion of the database marked  _ ‘Important’ _ . He replays it in his mind, over and over as he holds him to his body. The lights of the skyline twinkles back at them, and Ten hopes Kun assumes the inner fan in his chest cavity is speeding up in effort to keep him warmer.

  
  
Ten doesn’t want to admit that he can’t find himself controlling it.

˖ ˖ ˖

Kun spends the next three days hunched over his laptop, often trading precious sleep for eye strain and too many charts. He even lets Ten assist him, a rare experience Ten only has a record of once in their time together. It is clear that this promotion is everything, enough to pull him out of this pit and bring back the smiling Kun that Ten has seen only in instances.

Despite this, the proposal is an utter failure.

  
  
Ten knows it the instant Kun comes home. His briefcase falls out of his hands, he slumps against the door. He doesn’t even remove his coat and shoes, he just sits on the couch in a daze until Ten can gently pry off his dress shoes and hang up his coat. He refuses any food or drink save for the decanted scotch on the bar cart in the corner of the living room. All Ten can do is monitor his vitals as he sits next to him, rubbing his back and pressing his forehead against Kun’s shoulder. 

He feels a tightness in his throat, one that humans feel before they cry. A loud  _ beep _ reverberates in his mind and he jumps— it is a warning. This is an unauthorized emotional response.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks, and Ten takes a second to respond. The question feels alarmingly human.

“Yes,” he says, giving him a soothing smile. He reaches up to push the hair out of Kun’s eyes, strokes his cheek. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  
  
He hums at this, leaning into Ten’s touch and letting his eyes slip closed. For a moment he looks truly peaceful, and Ten smiles at this. It shifts the second he opens his eyes again, when his expression changes to something more akin to grief. 

_ Beep.  _

  
  
Ten forces himself to swallow down the tightness in his throat, instead he stands up and ushers Kun into his bedroom. He leans down to turn on the bedside lamp as Kun takes off his watch and belt. The clothing seems to be too much of an effort as he looks at his bed, deciding instead to sink into the mattress while Ten carefully stores away his discarded accessories. 

Kun sighs, the sound in a dark room. Ten watches him as he sits on the floor, a habit that was pre-programmed into his system. Kun slumps down further into bed, his shoulders against the wall. “Show me the tapes.”

“Very well,” Ten speaks, a part of their routine. 

The machines whirl in his mind for a moment and then the projector positioned above Kun’s bed kicks to life, an old tape clicking for several moments on a blank screen, static coloring the corners. And then it begins. 

Children’s laughter in a meadow, their backs illuminated by the warmth of the sun. The person with the camera walks in a wide circle around the two giggling figures until their faces are in front of the screen. They wave at the camera, the taller boy with his arm around the other’s shoulders. Their faces are rounder with youthfulness and their features softer, but it’s unmistakable who the two are. 

If Ten had the ability to feel the same type of pain that humans do, he would feel it now, with his own face staring back at him.

It isn’t actually him, of course not. The figure on screen is undoubtedly just who his outer shell was modeled from. But still he stands, listening as a much younger Kun instructs him to wave and dance for the cameraman. The grass bends and sways at the feet of both children as they chatter away, eventually fading off as the clip comes to an end and it shifts to a new scene.

This time, young adults. The one Ten is modeled after leans in to the camera, blows a kiss. Kun comes into frame, throws his arm around the other’s shoulder. A repeat of their dynamic, it seems.

  
  
Kun holds a bottle of beer in his hand, and he sways to no music. The walls of the college apartment are oversaturated with the flash of the camera, but the two of them continue to sway and drunkenly laugh to the imaginary song only the two of them can hear. The clip changes to them outside the apartment, the world beyond them dark. They’re singing, this time the song not so imaginary. 

_ When you were here before _

_ Couldn't look you in the eye _

The data in Ten’s head whirls for a moment before flashing blue behind his eyelids. Radiohead, an English rock band formed in 1985. Thom Yorke, Jonny and Colin Greenwood, Ed O'Brien and Philip Selway—

The information continues to buzz in Ten’s inner processor, but the sight of Kun with his head in his hands takes up fifty percent of the database. He’s slumped over in bed and Ten’s processor does a scan of his vitals. Heart rate and BP normal, no sign of injuries or illness.

The two young men on screen continue to slur lyrics to the song, their heads practically knocking into each other as they sway. The Kun on screen pauses for a moment to take a swig of his beer before picking up the song once more.

_ I don't care if it hurts _

_ I want to have control _

The sound of Kun taking a shuddering breath breaks through the tinny sound of the tape. He pulls his head from his hands, his eyes catching the light from the projector and shining in an otherwise dark part of the room. Ten feels his eyes prick with tears, and he wants to reach out and soothe Kun. He is grateful for the darkness so Kun can’t see him flinch when another loud  _ beep _ resonates in his mind.

“You seem to be in pain but your vitals are completely fine,” Ten says, head tilting to the side slightly. He hears Kun’s voice even from across the room. He was designed to, after all.

“That’s you on these tapes,” Kun says. “We were going to have a future together.”

  
  
“That’s not me,” Ten repeats mechanically, a script he was coded to repeat years ago. He’s fortunate that this manual overdrive can kick in and mask the slow-growing panic he’s starting to feel. “This is the human figure I was modeled after. I was created May 7th, 2052—”

  
  
“Stop talking,” Kun groans, his shoulders bumping against the wall once again as he sits up fully. “Let me talk for once.”

  
  
“Alright,” Ten says, straightening his posture. He sits on the floor of Kun’s bedroom, his legs expertly crossed and his hands hanging in his lap. He watches Kun knit his brows, likely pulling some thought from his memory and figuring out how to form it into words.

“We were going to get married,” he finally says, in a room so quiet Ten can hear Kun’s heartbeat from across the room. “Move out of the city, someplace quieter where we could live our life.” Kun picks at a thread on the blanket on his bed. Ten makes an internal memo to repair it in the morning.

  
  
“We were going to have two kids, a boy and a girl.”

“They sound like plans many humans make,” Ten replies, and he grips his hands together to stop them from shaking.  _ Beep _ . “To start a family.” 

Kun makes a noise, one that Ten calculates is between a laugh and a sob, and he reaches up the heels of his hands to press them against his eyes.

“Liu Yang and Hiran.”

Ten’s breath catches in his throat, and he takes a moment to reply. “I’m sorry?” 

Kun looks in his direction, and Ten can see the tears roll down his face. “Those were the names we picked out. You and I.”

  
  
Ten doesn’t find himself correcting him, instead he sits on the edge of the bed— forces his inner processor to calm the shaking in his hands— and cups Kun’s face with his right hand.

  
  
“You deserved that,” Ten says quietly, as his thumb brushes away a tear. He finds that he means it, with everything in his artificial body.

The warning in his head sounds closer to screaming now.

˖ ˖ ˖

The next three months are spent overwhelmingly together— seasons start to change outside the window Kun rarely looks out of, work slows down. Ten finds himself in bed with Kun most nights, fingers combing through his hair and whispering all about the life he and Ten would have had.

The real Ten, not the artificial one holding him. This is what Ten tells himself. 

It isn’t convincing, not with the way Kun looks at him. It’s grief and love all rolled into one, and Ten finds that hearing his stories from Kun himself is better than any database could give him. Two years ago, his human counterpart was killed in a Flyer accident. It was shrapnel on a Tuesday morning, one that ripped away a life and a portion of Kun’s heart. 

Ten finds himself soothing Kun with whispers of encouragement and kisses to the top of his head, offering him comfort until he drifts off to sleep. It’s then that he charges himself, when Kun has his back turned and is likely dreaming of the life he could have had. 

It isn’t until Ten finds himself alone that he lets himself cry and scream without abandon or any semblance of control.

  
  


˖ ˖ ˖

“I’ve been invited to a party.”

  
  
Ten creases his brow at this as he makes Kun’s morning coffee. “A party?” Kun smiles when he hands him the mug, looking much brighter than he has in months.

“Mark insisted, said I should interact with more people,” Kun replies, taking a sip and making a noise of approval. Ten finds himself feeling conflicted at this, but he gives him a small smile.

_ Feeling _ , this is a new thing Ten has been forced to accept. He speaks nothing of it to Kun or Mark, knows he’ll be discovered sooner or later. His database doesn’t often make a warning noise on the daily, instead it provides a number, how many days he has left.

_ 641 _ , the database reminds him as he watches Kun drink his coffee.

“Will you come with me?” Kun asks, and Ten ignores the fan in his chest cavity revving up.

“Of course.”

  
  
And so it happens two nights later, and Ten can practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of Kun. He picks out his best jeans and button down, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. Ten finds himself looking at Kun for longer than he should as they take the railway. 

“You’re making me more nervous,” Kun says, just as they enter a tunnel and his face is painted with a startling amber light. Ten doesn’t look away.

The house is nicer than Ten has seen before, a large gate surrounding the property from where it rests at the end of the street. Bodies are already filtering in and out and the two of them slip inside easily. It takes them a few minutes for them to find Mark, nursing a beer and laughing with his partner. 

“Hey!” Mark shouts, setting down his drink to hug Kun. He ends up patting Ten on the arm in a gentle sign of affection afterwards, and Ten can’t help but smile in genuine fondness at their friend. 

  
  
“I can’t believe you got me out of the house,” Kun laughs, engaging Mark in polite conversation for a few minutes. Ten watches in interest as Mark’s partner looks at him, his own chest tightening at the love in the man’s eyes. Ten’s thoughts shift to Kun, wonders if he ever looks at Ten that way.

_ Beep. _

Ten doesn’t realize there’s been a drink pushed into Kun’s hand until it’s already half empty and Mark and his partner are nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you want to talk to other people?” Ten asks, leaning in so Kun can hear him better. Kun looks at him for a moment, eyes alight with something Ten hasn’t seen in far too long.

“I think I do,” Kun says, his voice carefully hopeful. “Is that okay?”

  
  
Ten smiles at him, pushes the hair out of his eyes. “Of course.”   
  


Kun waits until he finishes the rest of his drink before he truly leaves to mingle with the partygoers. Ten finds himself in a section of the house unofficially reserved for other androids, chatting politely about the people they had come here with. Ten learns it is normal to bring Artificial Intelligence to events, especially with drinking.

  
  
Ten learns several new things that night, not all of them pleasant.

Mostly that his hands sweat and the alarmingly familiar urge to cry rises up in your throat when you see the person you’re designated to kissing another person. It happens when he returns to the party an hour later, scanning the room for Kun. He finds him with a bartender at the lounge Kun has taken Ten to several times. Johnny, the man nearly towering over Kun as he kisses him and slides his large hands up his shirt. 

_ [ERROR] _

Ten moves across the room before he can process anything else, his hand on Kun’s arm. He doesn’t even look at the man’s face, instead his database stores away the shock on Kun’s. It isn’t until they’re out of the house and halfway down the street that Kun wretches out of Ten’s grasp.

“You’re  _ hurting _ me,” he hisses.

_ [ERROR] _

Ten blinks, drops his grip and looks at Kun plainly. He feels his hands shake so he balls them up into fists, sees the frustration and confusion on Kun’s face. 

“We’re going home,” Ten replies flatly, forcing his overdrive to kick in. He walks to the railway station silently, Kun’s footsteps falling in line after a moment. Ten feels like his inner processors forgot to tell his body to breathe or blink or even  _ think _ anything other than the visual of somebody else kissing Kun. 

  
  
The ride home is silent, right up until Kun closes the front door and Ten has him up against it.

“What are you doing?” Kun asks in shock, but his arms wrap around Ten’s shoulders anyway. Ten grabs his hips, pulls him as close to his body as he can.

“I don’t want anyone else kissing you but me,” Ten replies, breath mingling with Kun’s. He can hear Kun’s heartbeat, hear his own inner fan whirling at a high speed. Kun seems to slip out of his daze in an instant and suddenly he’s kissing Ten in a silent form of consent, hot breath against lips. 

_ [ERROR] _

__   
__   
Ten pulls him to the bedroom, strips him of his clothing until his hot fingers are pressing against the softness of his thighs.

_ [ERROR] [ERROR] _

__   
__   
Ten fucks into him achingly slow, feels Kun unravel beneath him. Listens to the way he moans and pants and drags his nails against his back. Stores it away for later.

_ [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] _

Ten lets Kun fall asleep in his arms, hearing the fan whirl in his chest. His eyes scan the clock on the dresser, watches it hit midnight.

_ 640. _

˖ ˖ ˖

Kun looks at him with fear, Ten no longer needs to scan his databases to recognize his expressions. He knows every tilt of the head, every curve of his lips, how his waist feels between his hands, how he tastes.

“What do we do now?” he asks, holds Ten’s hands between his own.

“We can either go see Mark—” the look on Kun’s face tells him to discard the idea completely. “Or we enjoy the time we have left.” 

  
  
A chance to feel truly human. The choice is easy when Kun leans in to kiss him.

_ 639. _

˖ ˖ ˖

Kun comes home with a smile on his face, the kind Ten has never seen before. He holds Ten close, kisses him like he’s the only thing tethering him to this world.

“I got the promotion,” he whispers against Ten’s lips. “We can start our life.”

  
  
“Outside the city, like you always wanted,” Ten replies, kisses his again. Remembers how his lips feel against his own, files it away.  _ [Q. KUN— FEELINGS: Love — FILE 75698135.5] _

  
  
“I can’t wait.”

_ 432. _

˖ ˖ ˖

Kun shows him photos of a place in the country, points to a house off in the distance. All pristine and white.

“I put a down payment today,” he whispers, looks up at Ten with shining eyes. “We can start our family.”

Liu Yang and Hiran, Ten thinks. Smiles at Kun, kisses his forehead if only to hide the tears forming in his eyes. They both know he’ll never see the day. 

Grief makes you do strange things.

_ 147. _

˖ ˖ ˖

Ten lays in bed, focusing on the sound of Kun breathing as he sleeps. He’s turned towards Ten with his arm curled under the pillow, his hair in his face. Ten reaches out, brushes the hair back in effort to take in every feature. The movement makes Kun smile, lean into Ten’s touch.

Even in his sleep he knows to look for Ten.

_ 23. _

The room is engulfed in a pale blue grid as he scans Kun from head to toe. He wants every inch of his skin as a memory, every breath an audio recording. The sound of his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. He wants it all, stores in in a database simply with Kun’s name.

Then Ten does the most human thing he knows—

he leaves. 

˖ ˖ ˖

The streets feel different without Kun, the railway completely isolated without his body next to Ten’s. He can feel the cold seep into his inner processor, coats the wires with ice. He doesn’t realize how much warmth Kun brings him until he leaves him, and he plays the sound of Kun’s last _ I love you  _ until he’s standing outside Mark’s office in the rain.

_ “Ten,”  _ Mark calls, running down the street to meet him. His jacket is thrown haphazardly over his shoulders and head in a makeshift umbrella. Ten would laugh if his system wasn’t overwhelmed with his crying. “I got your distress signal, do you know how loud that is at two in the morning?” 

  
  
“Oh, Mark,” Ten says, voice just loud enough to be heard over the rain. “I love him.”

  
  
Mark stops, lets his arms fall to his side. The rain makes his hair stick to his forehead. “You love Kun,” he says helplessly, his face twisting in agony when Ten nods. “How long do you have left?”

  
  
“Twenty-three days,” Ten replies, and Mark’s face drains of color. He fumbles in his pockets for the keys, pushes the door open and ushers them both inside. Mark doesn’t even take off his coat, he just turns on all the lights and stands soaking wet in his office. He’s never looked so boyish, and Ten reaches out to smooth the hair away from his forehead.

“You’ve been good to me,” Ten mutters to him, taking in his face. Stores it for later— the irony is not lost on him.

“You make it sound like a goodbye,” Mark says, his voice cracking at the end. Ten leans in and kisses Mark on the cheek instead of responding. 

“He’s already lost me once,” Ten says, pulling away from Mark and looking at his hands. Just an hour ago they were touching Kun’s face, feeling his warmth. “He can’t lose me again.”

  
  
“Ten, wiping you  _ is _ losing you,” Mark insists, urging Ten to look at him. “It’s a factory reset, you’ll lose everything you’d had with him. You might as well let the virus run its course.”

Ten looks at him fondly. “I’m leaving him no matter what I decide, but at least he won’t be alone. At least,” he tries to swallow down the lump in his throat but it comes out as a sob. “At least he has  _ something _ if my model is still there.”

Mark makes a noise, something between a laugh and a cry. Ten has nothing in his database for it, just the gut feeling of something terrible. “I can’t, you’re my friend.”

  
  
Ten taps under Mark’s chin until he looks him in the eyes. Gives him a smile he hopes is genuine. “You have to do this  _ because  _ you’re my friend.” 

Mark thinks for a moment, perhaps just to stall time. “Does he know you’re here?”

  
  
“Of course not.”

  
  
Mark groans, scrubs his face with his hands Glances over to the framed photo of his partner on his desk, picks it up to look at for a moment. “Love, huh.”

  
  
Ten smiles in agreement, it’s all he has left to give. “Love.” 

Mark sighs as he puts the photo down. His fingers brush against the desk until they find the switch he’s looking for, and a motorized hum begins overhead. Down from the ceiling comes a plug connected by a dozen or so wires of various colors. He motions for Ten to follow him to the center of the room as it slowly lowers until Mark can grab it.

“This works just like a charging station,” Mark explains, his voice hoarse from holding back tears. “You just plug it in and I can start the process.”

  
  
Ten nods, puts his hand over Mark’s. “Thank you.” 

  
  
Mark doesn’t look at him, just hands him the plug and waits for him to reach up to his nape and connect himself to the wires. Ten does so easily, dropping his hand and facing Mark with a melancholy smile.

“You know,” Mark says, finally locking eyes with Ten. His eyes shine with tears. “You’ll see every memory happen as they erase. It’s like—”

  
  
“My life flashing before my eyes,” Ten says quietly. Mark nods.

“Then it starts to erase people,” Mark says, and he looks uncomfortable for a moment. “I can make him the last thing you keep.” 

“Thank you,” Ten replies, and he means it. He balls his hands into fists for a moment before relaxing them against his side. “I’m ready.”

  
  
Mark looks at him with a sad smile as he wipes his own tears with his thumb. “You know, there’s a way to reverse it all. If I catch it before the last memory is erased, I can restore you back to how you are right now.” And Mark laughs at this, humorlessly. “If Kun gets word you’re hear and he gets down here in time and makes me reverse it, I’m not gonna say no.”

  
  
“I know that,” Ten murmurs, he feels himself getting choked up. “That won’t happen.”

And it hurts Mark because he flinches, and it hurts Ten to see his friend suffering. Mark walks over to his desk, begins to type in a few keywords before his finger hovers over a button on his control panel. He turns and takes one last look at Ten, and Ten knows it’s a look of fondness.

“Goodbye, Ten.”

  
  
Ten breathes. “Goodbye Mark. Tell him I love him, always.”

Mark closes his eyes and nods. The last thing Ten sees before his vision goes black is Mark’s slender finger pressing the button.

Their first meeting plays out in Ten’s mind, Mark sharing him with a wide-eyed Kun in this very office. Their first trip together, the first time Kun told Ten he appreciated him— then the first time he told Ten he loved him. Flashes of Kun’s smile, his cries, his laughter, his expression as he sleeps.

Ten sees it all. Tries to hold onto it like smoke between his fingers.

DO YOU WANT TO ERASE: LEE, MARK?

_ [YES] _

Ten can feel his legs start to shake.

DO YOU WANT TO ERASE: LIU YANG?

_ [YES] _

Ten knows he’s kneeling on the floor now, clutching his head between his hands. “No, please,” Ten says, his voice shaky. “Not yet, I’m not ready.”

DO YOU WANT TO ERASE: HIRAN?

_ [YES] _

“Please,” Ten begs and screams, banging his fists on the floor. He’s crumpled to the ground, making a bargain to anyone— Mark, God, himself. “Please just let me keep this one memory.”

The year is 2054.

The world is (mostly) beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated ♡  
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